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The Darkness Of Today
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M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

May-23-2010 09:30

Every second that is wasted on the battlefield in a war, is every second that a wounded soldier is bleeding to death. Every chance a medic got to save a life, they got killed. As I sit in a bar and reminisce about the days in the war, I realized just how much my life changed.

I watched in horror as people died. I held people as they died in my arms. I came home from the war. And no one, not one person, knew the horrors that me and my fellow brothers in arms saw. No one even thanked us for serving our country when we came home. So here I sit, inside this bar with my flask in my hand drowning myself with pure alcohol flashing back to the war.

I start to feel the alcohol taking affect as it runs through my body. Someone comes in and sits down next to me. It is a scum bag of the streets; a scam artist who steels what little money the poor and those in poverty have and keeps it for himself.

"How 'bout it?" He says as he sits down next to me. I merely stare at him and look away. He orders a drink. Gin. He orders shot after shot as I gulp the whiskey from my flask.

"You might want to slow down there, chief." The bartender says.

"Oh shut up!" I snap. I can't even remember his name or the name of the bar I'm in. I then look over at the dirt-bag next to me. How neatly dressed he is. With his crisp hat and pressed suit. I compare myself to him and realize I am dressed no different and smile to myself. But as I sit and stare at him, something in me changes. I become angry. A little voice in my head starts to talk in a dark, deep whisper.

"Do it," it says to me.

"No," I say to it. "I can't do it."

"Yes, you can," it says to me, "you know you want to. He's scum. He won't be missed."

An argument starts in my mind. My pure thoughts fighting that little voice. The small whisper wins.

Something in me snaps and I crack my neck with the turn of my head.

"Hey buddy, you okay?" the scum bag asks.

"I'm fine," I snap.


M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jun-1-2010 22:54

Marc pulled out his two pistols and unloaded them, placing them in his desk drawer. He sat there in silence for hours, thinking about what he could do. Thinking about what he SHOULD do. He placed his elbows on his table and buried his face in his hands. He didn't cry but he felt every urge to.

He didn't expect Molly to forgive him. If she did, that would be her decision. But the trust..that would be completely different. She wouldn't trust him for a long time. And he knew that. So he accepted that.

Riza would probably be the same. Marc wasn't sure how forgiving either of them were. He had never angered them like this. Let alone, let his anger take control. One thing was for certain. He wasn't about to let that happen again.

Just as Marc was going to pack it in and go home, someone knocked on his door. "Come in," Marc mumbled. The door opened, and in walked a familiar face.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Jun-3-2010 10:27

Molly was not in the mood.
She had checked herself out of the hospital earlier that morning, even though her shoulder was killing her and she could use the drugs. No, Molly detested hospitals. The only good things that happened in hospitals were babies being born, and hers had been delivered in a strangers car en route to the place, because back then she hadn't had a dime, a car, or a friend to her name.

So she had license to detest hospitals as much as she liked.

Jack had come by, but she had pretended to be asleep. Thats what she had done for the majority of her friends, in fact. She didn't feel like talking much. She hadn't bothered going to Grace's funeral. The guilt and the anger ate away at her too much.

In fact, within the hour of her release, she was holding two tickets for the ship that would take her to Shanghai, and from there to Cairo. She wouldn't bother saying goodbye, she needed time to herself and her daughter. So she had packed sparsely and locked her apartment door behind her, driving to the docks with a grim face. Her daughter said nothing, just looked ahead with curious eyes.

Brian Flannigan
Brian Flannigan

Jun-3-2010 16:36

It was Dr. Flannigan. He walked in and sat down at Marc's desk. Marc looked up at him. The detective looked like he had gone to hell and back. Flannigan had only knew so much as to what had happened. The only information that was given to him was that something weird had happened to Marc. He changed. He had lost control of his anger. Brian hated to see Marc lose friends such as Molly and Riza. According to them all they had been friends for quite sometime. "We just want out old friend back." They told him.

"Marc." Brian said with a pause. "I'm here to help. You've destroyed your relationship with two of your closest friends and if you want them back then-"

"I'm fine," Marc snapped.
"No you're not." Dr. Flannigan stated. "Marc, you've completely gone off the edge! You've destroyed Ms. Maltese's life!"
"You don't think that I don't know that already?!" Marc yelled back.
"Marc, will you listen to me for just one damned second?"
"Why? So you can tell me how many lives I've ruined?"
Brian sat back in his chair.

"Okay, Marc. What are you going to do?" Brian asked.
"What do you propose I should do?" Marc asked.
"Frankly, I'm not sure, Marc. We can start by talking about your past. What causes you to lose your temper. I was told something about you and a long have you heard that whisper in you head?" Flannigan said.

Marc paused. "Doc..I don't need any help."

The doctor looked down. In the right corner, he noticed a duffel bag. "What's in the bag?"

"Personal items, doc."

"Like what? You planning on leaving?"


"Marc, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm not sure yet."
"You going to leave the country?"
"No..that's a cowardice move. Just leaving the city..I'm not even sure if I"m going to go or not. It's a choice I haven't made yet."

"Marc, I can't let you leave."
"Yes, you can." Marc snapped. Marc got up and walked out of the office leaving Flannigan by himself.

Lyra Cornwallis
Lyra Cornwallis
Lucky Stiff

Jun-4-2010 07:04

Lyra entered the room and looked around. There was no one, except Dr. Flannigan, looking very anxious. Lyra walked up to where he was sitting, clutching his head in his hands.
"Dr. Flannigan?" she asked.
He looked up. Apparently he hadn't heard her entering the room, and was startled at the sound of her voice.
"Oh - hello, Miss - er - er" Flannigan stopped.
"Cornwallis. Lyra Cornwallis," said Lyra. "Please call me Lyra."
Flannigan nodded. "I have seen you before, haven't I? About a couple of weeks ago... near Marc's house, if I'm right."
"You must be mistaken, I haven't been anywhere near Marc's house before," replied Lyra.
Flannigan looked bewildered. "Surely it was you? But -" he faltered. "Was it your twin, Louise, then?"
Lyra didn't reply. She just looked at him for a few seconds and finally said: "Could be. I don't know where she'd gone, so I can't be sure. But what is this about Marc leaving the country, Flannigan?"
Flannigan heaved a sigh. "It's a long story, Lyra. Sit down," he said, and started telling her everything that had happened. "... and so I have no idea whether Marc plans to leave or not. I -"
"Quiet!" Lyra interrupted. "Someone's coming."
She turned around,but couldn't see anyone. Then she could hear footsteps again. She drew out her gun, and stood ready with her finger on the trigger. Marc stood with his left hand on the door's handle, and his right hand on his gun. But he made no move that showed he was going to start firing at her or Flannigan.
"Lyra Cornwallis," Marc said. But he didn't say anything else. He just stood there.
Flannigan looked at Marc questioningly. "What's your decision?" he asked.
"I'm not leaving; I'm not a coward. I will stay here, in this country, in this city. But not in the same house," he finally said. "And take this bag," he added, looking at Lyra. "I have put in a few items, and there are two notes there. One for Riza and the other for Molly. Give them the notes." He left. Lyra followed him.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jun-5-2010 22:35

Marc made it about maybe 500 yards away from his office before Lyra Cornwallis caught up with him. "Walk with me," he said to her. And she nodded.
"Lyra," Marc started with a pause. "I'm not the same person I used to be...something in me has changed. Something is in me, that I can't control."
"Marc, I don't-" Lyra interrupted but Marc cut her off.

"Just listen for a second," He said as the walked down the street. "There is something in me..I've got.....a monster in me and it's something that I have to learn to control. I have already lost two of my friends because of this "thing". One friend is six feet under right now and it's my fault. I may not know you enough to call you my best friend, Lyra but I know you enough to trust you, and I know your reputation around the city.

"Lyra...I want you to do me a favor." Marc continued. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. "The pain inside is too much for me to do this." Marc scribbled down an address on the paper. "Give this letter to the parents of Grace McDowd. This is their address. She wasn't my girl friend or lover or anything like that. But she and I were close friends."

They stopped walking and Marc turned toward Lyra. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours. "I've got to go." Marc said. And he turned around.

"Where are you going?" He heard her ask.

"Right now? To send a message to someone." Marc said.

And with that, he disappeared into a large crowd of people.

Louise Cornwallis
Louise Cornwallis

Jun-8-2010 10:20

Louise came home after a tiring day, only to find that she'd lost the key to her house. She didn't even have a duplicate. She thought back to where she was before coming home and went back.
"My memory's really bad now," she thought. "I hope I can find it, or I'll have to spend my night somewhere else." Just as she turned round a corner, she bumped into a man.
"Watch where you're going," he growled. Louise apologized and quickly went on. She reached the shops she was in a few minutes ago, where she must have lost the key. She started searching. A little while later, she heard a voice:
"Louise, is this what you're looking for?"
Louise turned around and saw Molly. "Hallo, Molly! I wasn't expecting to see you here - how are you?"
"I feel better now, though my shoulder still hurts," Molly replied. "Your key," she added.
Louise took the key and thanked her, watching as she (Molly) went into one of the shops nearby. Then she remembered the paper Marc had told her to give to Grace's parents. "Better give it now," she thought. She walked up to Grace's house, which was quite near the shops. She rang the bell and waited for the door to open.
"Louise? Glad to see you here!" It was Grace's father. "Come in, come in!" he said. Louise saw that he was in a good mood, and didn't want to remind him about his daughter.
"My wife has gone out, she'll be back in a few minutes," Mr. McDowd said. "What brings you here?"
Louise took out the piece of paper from her bag, and looked at him. "I have to give this to you," she said. "It is a message from Marc Lacrimosa," she hurried on, as he looked at her questioningly. "I can't stay here long. Good day to you." She left the house, but didn't go away. Instead, she stood in a place where Mr. McDowd wouldn't see her. Just as she stood there, he came out.
"Louise?" he called out. "Oh, she's gone." He shook his head and went inside again.
Louise crept out of her hiding place and walked away quietly.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jun-8-2010 17:00

Darkness had fallen in two different places. The first place was outside. The second? Inside Marc. The detective stood in front of the creepy looking house clutching his pistol. Marc made his way to the front door and he opened it. To his luck the door was unlocked.

Slowly and quietly he walked inside the house. No one was home yet so he had no clue as to why he was being so quiet. Anger, maybe? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was because he didn't realize that Grace's death was an accident. Billings didn't intentionally shoot her. When the bullet grazed Jack's arm, he yanked his arm back and pulled the trigger. The shot that was intended to blow Marc's head off went to the side, and instead hit Grace. Unbeknownst to Marc, Grace's death had been a complete accident.

Marc walked inside a small office in the room. He sat down at the desk that stared at the door that Marc had come through. He knew that the man who owned this house would be here in just a few minutes. Marc leaned back in the chair and placed his feet on the table. Inside one of the drawers, Marc found a steel flask. He opened it and took a sniff. Gin. Marc's favorite. So he took a large gulp of the whiskey. Without hesitation, he placed the flask inside his jacket pocket.

Within minutes, Marc heard the front door open. Two people walked in. A man and a woman. They were laughing and sounded as though they were having a great time.

Marc cursed himself. A woman was in the house. If she saw him kill her husband, or what ever the hell he was to her, how would he keep her quiet. Would he knock her unconscious before anything happened? He wasn't sure.

Several thoughts raced through his mind. Just as he was making his decision, she left and the man came upstairs. As planned, he came right in his office and flicked on the light to find Marc sitting in his chair with a gun out. His elbow was bent and the gun was at chest level. There was no escaping this time.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jul-2-2010 10:11

"Marc Lacrimosa...what are you doing here?" Jack Billings asked.

"I came to talk." Marc said. "Have a seat." Marc motioned to the chair with his gun and Billings took a seat. "Billings, you and I have some unfinished business." Marc continued on. In truth, they did. They both wanted each other dead. But Marc was tired of this. Two people, both his friends, were gone. One was buried the city's cemetery where as, Marc was unsure of Molly's whereabouts. On his way to Jack's house, Marc decided it was time to end it all. And here he was. But was he going to kill Jack? He thought about it as they sat in the chair staring at each other. He could pull the trigger and his enemy would be forever gone. But then he would have to worry about Molly. This was of course, her ex-husband. Would killing him make things right? Maybe. But then again, maybe not. For all Marc knew, it would make things worse.

"You hat me, and I hate you, Jack." Marc said after a moment of silence. Marc lowered his pistol placing it on the table. He slid it over to the man on the other side of the table, and Jack picked it up. "What the-"

"Jack, I want you to shoot me. Let's make this right, Mr. Billings. I know you hate me. And so, I'm giving you the free chance to take me out of this world right here, right now." Marc said.

Lyra Cornwallis
Lyra Cornwallis
Lucky Stiff

Jul-5-2010 09:49

Lyra burst into the room and saw a look of surprise cross Jack's face. Marc saw it, and turned around; he looked shocked. Lyra's left cheek was bleeding, and her shoulder was soaked with the blood.
"I... got... shot," she panted, gesturing towards the door. Both the men rushed outside, and after a few moments, they seemed to realize what was going on: A few men were shooting in all directions, not caring who they shot, and no one was trying to stop them, they were all terrified. A few had already been shot dead.
Suddenly Lyra screamed in horror. "Jack! Jack!" she exclaimed, running forwards. Jack had been hit by a bullet, right on his forehead.

Jack Billings
Jack Billings

Jul-6-2010 14:49

(Um, we're going to change that to Jack's arm, as I'd rather not die if its all the same to you.)

Jack had just been about to respond to Marcs curious request- he didn't care either way and it seemed the man would be an obstacle in what had become Jacks new plan- get his wife back where she belonged. As he opened his mouth, the door flew open and Lyra Cornwallis, an unlikely associate of his flew in, covered in blood.

"" she panted, and pointed towards the door. With a sense of dread, Jack drew his pistol and advanced, to see a group of men shooting wildly as many of his other associates attempted to flee.

He fired into the center of the group, and Marc joined him. He could only assume it was some kind of raid-


Agony ripped through his upper arm as a bullet grazed him. The momentum spun him awkwardly and he fell against the doorjamb just as the cacaphony of bullets abruptly stopped. Silence descended.

He opened his eyes to see two of the attackers lying dead on the floor. The other two had presumably fled.

"What the hell?..." he groaned, examining the damage. It was the second time he'd been shot!

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